Steps
by Renn
Summary: James Vega has a pretty clear cut view of what he likes and why he likes it, and what he does and why he does it. But the universe is ever changing, right? Slash: James Vega/Steve Cortez. ME3


**Steps**

It came as a surprise to me, but who did I end up being absolutely _crazy_ about when I played ME3? James Vega. And what did I like even more than him? His banter with Steve Cortez. Epic. So of course I had to write about it.

Vague spoilers for ME3, no specifics, but better safe than sorry. Rated T for Mr. Vega's potty mouth. Contains slash, James/Steve, if my rambling didn't give it away.

Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership of the Mass Effect universe or its characters, nor am I making any profit from this. (Unless my own amusement counts as profit. Then I'm basically done for.)

By all means, enjoy, and do let me know that I'm not the only one whose only goal when visiting the shuttle bay was getting more of that bromance!

* * *

><p>No one would argue, James Vega is a man of little-to-no doubt. He makes his opinions, his decisions, and he stands by them no matter what. He allows for one neutral-minded occurrence, and then he makes up his mind, and sticks to it because he <em>decides<em> to.

For instance, he hears about krogan, but he has no position on them until he meets one of the giant lizards and fights him head-on. He then decides that krogan are cool. Awesome warriors, better to have with than against you. But he also decides, as he's battered and bloody, that he would never trust a krogan. He views them as a soldier does: powerful war machines to be respected, not befriended.

Salarians, against all odds, he likes. Mostly because he knew one from one of his first off-world assignments, and the guy said some funny shit. He's not sure about trusting them with more than his amusement, but he decides he likes them. If anything, their short lives make them very 'what the heck, go for it!' in their behavior – and _that_, he likes.

He could go on and on about that. Anderson, like. Hackett, no like. Shepard, like. Alenko, no like – not straight away anyway, but after seeing the guy beaten to a bloody pulp by a sexy-bot, he can't deny the man grew on him. Joker, like. Liara, no like, not really – he can handle commandos and dancers, but sciency centenary Shadow Brokers asari make him feel something close to inadequate and he hates it. Cortez, like – from their first meeting, too, because the pilot never hesitated to call him on his shit in a fun way. Shepard's weird KEI-9 machine dog? Don't tell anyone, but like – he's got a reputation to think of though, so officially, no like.

When he's drunk, he'll give you a full list if prompted – true story.

The point is this – he sticks by his choices.

So when he's aboard the Normandy _fleeing_ from Earth, he's mad at Shepard and Anderson both for making him leave against his will, but he still likes them – he'll still listen to them and follow orders, because he's professional and cool like that. He can't help but sulk a bit when he hears they're going to Mars, though – Mars, _no like_. So red, and full of sand, and red, and there's not even oxygen! Mars is so overrated.

But he knows why he decided he likes Steve when the pilot casually says that the Alliance labs on Mars were enhancing the M-23 Katana shotgun onsite and that if he's lucky he might be able to swipe one before it hits the production line – if it ever does at this point.

"I thought you might like to know…" Cortez notes with a shrug as he returns to making sure the shuttle will be usable. He _always_ knows what to say.

Yep. James knows why he likes the guy. He knows it's mutual, too, and that's fact, not ego. When they met up again, six months ago, when he was 'guarding' Shepard (yeah _right_) and Steve was retrofitting the shuttle bay, the conversation had quickly gone to the case sensitive part of:

"How's Robert?"

"…Didn't make it off Ferris Fields."

"Shit, man…I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

And that was it. James doesn't dance on eggshells – like _that_ would go over well with his size! – and Steve appreciates that. If he happens to mention the Collectors, or lovers, or _Robert_, he doesn't gasp and clamp a hand over his mouth in panic like he's a monster for being so insensitive before looking at his friend pathetically, as if waiting for him to either hit him or dissolve into tears. Nah, none of that – not that Steve is the 'burst out random violence or burst into tears' kind of guy anyway. Sometimes if something he said makes them both think of Robert, he just frowns instead, and shakes his head, but not in that 'I can't believe I mentioned him!' way. In a 'shit, man deserved so much better than that!' way and then they move on to the next topic in their conversation.

Still, that's when he makes another decision.

Steve is 'okay' – he's not a suicidal risk, he's still a damned good pilot (but don't tell him he thinks so), he's still completely owning whatever he does and he's still got that good-natured humor – but still he's not entirely the Steve he remembers. And so perhaps at the moment he can do jack shit for Earth except act as Shepard's muscles when the man needs him in a fight, but he needs something to do between battles or all he'll do is drive himself and those around him crazy. And he can help his friend.

So he decides to help Steve – the Steve that he remembers – come back. It can't be done in a few talks or a few days, he knows that – it's a full process in its own, one that requires several steps.

Luckily, he's not so bad at keeping count and despite appearances he's one patient bastard – _tenacious_ even, some have said.

* * *

><p>Contrary to popular belief, James Vega doesn't complain pointlessly – not that he's a complaining machine like that engineer with the funny accent, but when he complains, there's a <em>reason<em> behind it. And nagging – nagging just doesn't exist in his dictionary. Neither does whining. Or pointless sighing. He doesn't roll his eyes either because he soon realized that if he kept giving in to his urge every time he felt like it he'd be pretty much rolling his eyes nonstop – or sighing nonstop, and that's totally not cool.

But today, James Vega rolls his eyes _and_ sighs as he steps off the elevator – and just for the record, he's allowed to break his own rules from time to time and still retain the 'cool' status, _claro_?

"Now correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Vega, but from where I stand that sounded like a _sigh_!"

The Lieutenant raises an eyebrow as he turns to the voice, looking around some until he finds his friend by the Kodiak, and walks over to him. "Yo Esteban, still trying to breed your omni-tool with the Kodiak's propulsion systems?" he teases. "Do we need to have the 'birds and the bees' talk again?"

"I'm nowhere near drunk enough to get you started back on _that_, but thank you for the offer," Steve replies easily, his shoulders moving with barely contained amusement.

"Your loss," Vega declares as though he really is above all the child's play.

Cortez shakes his head but doesn't add to it. "So…why the sighing?"

"Westmoreland and Campbell," James replies as though that explains everything.

And it kinda does, because while he doesn't know them all that well, Steve's heard enough from the grapevine to know that the two door guards are both judgmental blabbermouths – then again, they're guarding a _door_, so he tries not to be too harsh on them in his mind. "What's today's agenda?" he asks, partly curious, partly sensing the other is waiting for him to do so.

"Revenge."

And when James says it like that, there's no doubt that the two Privates have given an opinion that borders on the 'don't go there' territory that Vega has established – wordlessly established, really, so they can't exactly be blamed, in all objectivity.

"We get to help people – okay, ex-Cerberus people, admittedly – escape with their lives, and Privates Prim and Proper can only say that they should've chosen their employers better? _Increible_!" he says nearly angrily as he throws his hands up in the air. "S'like no matter what shit or miracle we pull up, nothing matters but the icky parts!"

"I didn't realize this annoys you so much," Steve notes with a quick look over his shoulder.

"Yeah, 'course!" James replies with a shrug – even though his movement fails to look casual because of his massive shoulders. "S'just like my uncle always said—you gotta learn to see the good that comes outta things, else you're just screwed and it's real _triste_, you know? _Yes_, we got shot at, but we also saved the day for these people! _Yes_, they made weird-ass choices in the past, but now it's more freakin' brilliant minds on our side and 'screw you, Cerberus'! No?"

The shuttle pilot huffs in a way that may or may not imply he's refraining from laughing at him openly. "I never pegged you as an optimist, Mr. Vega!" he teases. "More like 'an eye for an eye' kind of guy…" he admits, but there's no judgment, no disapproval in his tone. His shoulders remain relaxed as he tests the shuttle's drive system to check whether his repairs are going the right way.

James actually laughs at this, and rubs the back of his head, cracking his neck for good measure. "Well, the next time I'm shot at, poor bastards will doubly pay for it," he concedes. "Now, though? I'm mostly showing off, trying to work the swooning back in your life—you know, me being such a good friend an'all!" he finishes as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I also needed to vent, but mostly I did it for the swooning."

Cortez shakes his head and turns back to him, mirroring his posture as he leans back against the shuttle. "Of course," he humors him, barely grinning.

There's silence for a moment, as they hold a staring contest that is only slightly interrupted when Shepard's trusty KEI-9 whizzes past them, illuminating random spots on the walls. Not in the least feeling like he's losing but becoming restless as he feels the need to move and exercise the last mission's stress away, James gives another shrug. "Well is it workin' at least?" he asks with the tiniest huff of genuine concern laced in with the apparent nonchalance.

Steve is silent for another moment until his lips quirk up the slightest bit. "I'll let you know, Mr. Vega," he assures him, tone not entirely serious but enough so that it shows he acknowledges the other's efforts.

It's enough for James. "You do that," he finishes with a nod as he walks back to his station, already stretching his arms to get started with that exercising.

It may not be a step forward exactly, but even without being too optimistic it can't be considered a step backwards either. Good enough for now.

* * *

><p>Most people may not be aware of this simple fact, but Shepard likes to talk. Really. And <em>nobody<em> on the Normandy (or the previous two, he's told) has ever felt left out. Shepard is their Commander, but more than that…Shepard is a living inspiration. A talking living inspiration who likes to inspire others by talking to them.

Which is why as their Commander leaves the cargo bay with a satisfied air, James crosses his arms over his chest and squints his eyes in what may be a glare towards his friend.

To his credit, Steve doesn't take long to feel that stare – almost-glare – on the back of his head and turn to face his usually loud and easy-going comrade squinting his eyes at him. "Something the matter?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

The eyes remain squinty – and okay, by now it's a full glare – and James slowly uncrosses his arms to hold up one hand, four fingers standing up. "Four times, Cortez," he simply says as though it's self-explanatory.

Steve only gets that the lack of 'Esteban' means he's in for business. But he doesn't say anything.

"Four times I try to get you off that blasted bird and take some leave and you say '_no'_, then _Shepard_ comes along and asks _una vez_ and '_yes Commander I'll go to the Citadel_'?" There he tsks loudly as he shakes his head. "Now you hurt my feelings, Esteban! I thought we had something special, you and me!"

Steve holds back his laughter and makes mental note that James obviously worked on his 'betrayed' act before. "Well what can I say? He outranks me," he replies instead with a shrug, showing how helpless he really was when confronted to their Commander's decision to inspire him into taking some leave.

Vega points a warning finger at him, raising an eyebrow. "Careful Esteban, when someone's outranked people have nasty things to say about fraternization!" he teases.

This time he does laugh. "Well then I'm lucky I've got you to remind me to watch my step, Mr. Vega!"

"Damn right you are!" James agrees. He gives another huff for good measure and nods at him, shooting him one last threatening look before moving back to his station. "That doesn't mean I'm not hurt!" he calls back. When he sees Steve raise an eyebrow, he holds up his hands casually. "Just sayin'!"

The next time he returns from a mission, a small pack of 'Thessia style beef jerky!' (_With guaranteed real strips of bovinae origin! – No varren parts included in fabrication process_) awaits him at his station. As he elatedly tears the plastic and chews on a bite – and doesn't bother holding in a moan – James knows he can definitely consider this a step forward.

* * *

><p>You'd probably never guess by simply looking at him, but James Vega does <em>not<em> like to be ignored.

…

Okay, so you would completely guess. In a heartbeat. But he likes to pretend otherwise – because as a kid he soon realized that showing disinterest in something generally got you that thing, while the more you exhibited your desire to have it, the less likely you were to actually have it – and damn if it isn't some weird logic, but it's always worked by him!

The only person he forgives for not noticing him at all is Joker when EDI is around, because undeniably that's forgivable and it's not like he pays attention to the squeaky pilot in those instances either. Or Shepard, because he won't argue the man has got more important shit to worry about.

Admittedly though, and while he won't brag about it all over town, there's something that annoys him more than being ignored – it's to unwittingly ignore someone that he wouldn't have wanted to ignore had he known that they were around and that he should've paid more attention. Simply put he doesn't like to miss out on things.

He ignores Shepard when the Commander comes to kill his mojo in the middle of a good deal of Skyllian Five in the docks, but part of him notes that the man has this 'post-inspiring-discussion' look about him – but then, he's winning again, so that thought gets pushed away to a corner of his mind to be thought upon later, to have something to do if by lack of luck he loses his shirt. Mind you, if he were to lose the shirt, people would have no choice _but_ to notice him.

When he later makes to leave the hangar with a few more credits than he'd had coming in – no too many, not like there could be any pleasure in robbing those poor bastards of what little credits they still had left after all – he notices Cortez is at the memorial, gaze fixated on a frame. Not wanting to intrude but unable to hold his curiosity in check, he cranes his neck to see what his friend is looking at, and his eyes widen as he recognizes the face in the frame. Robert.

He'd met Robert only a couple of times, but he hadn't needed more than a minute to come to the conclusion: Robert, like. Nice guy. Capable guy. Good guy. Well, not that Steve would have married a horrible, good-for-nothing, bad guy (yeah _right_!) but Robert was definitely someone who'd have deserved better from life than to be turned into nutrient paste for a freaky giant science project the Reapers cooked up.

It occurs to James that Steve has probably been standing there for some time – that Shepard might have even talked to him. He momentarily contemplates his options, uncertain whether the other would actually want him to walk up to him right now. But before he can make up his mind, someone calls out Cortez's name, and as the man turns, surprise turns to genuine _happy_ surprise upon seeing who called him. Friends, obviously – welcome faces in this time of mourning.

James nods to himself, resuming his walk out of the docks, thinking of his spare pocket change and what uses he could find for it. And even if he is technically stepping away, he refuses to call it a step backwards yet.

As he later ambushes Cortez when the man casually strolls back to his station and proceeds to drag him off to the lounge with a bottle of mescal in hand, he definitely agrees that this is a major step forward.

(His head begs to differ in the morning, but that's an entirely different story altogether.)

* * *

><p>It might come as a surprise to most, but James Vega actually pays attention, and not only if you have breasts or you're his commanding officer – or both, as it may be. But he likes to observe – no one really notices the big lumber-guy in the background grinning to himself as he nurses his drink. Well, to be fair, of course they <em>notice him<em>, how could they not? But they don't register him as a threat – except the few who cling to their sweethearts just a bit more closely because James is a fine treat and he knows it (and yeah, admittedly, he may play with that regularly). It's fact, and not ego. (Okay, so it's _also_ a fair bit of ego, but frankly, he owns up to that one.)

At any rate when Shepard walks his walk in the club, asides from Aria T'Loak no one really notices the soldier. But James does. He watches him as he nods at Aria, grins at Joker, looks up to the dance floor and steps up to meet Cortez, and then Vega's puzzled. How did he not notice his friend up there? Frowning at himself – and scaring an asari next to him who might be worried he's getting mad at _her_, for whatever reason – he tries to think back on what happened since he walked in. Hmm.

Walk in. Own the looks – and _yes_, some _did_ drool, you _know_ it. Own the room. Walk to the bar. Get a drink. Own the bar. Look around – get ogled some more. Finish the drink. Chat with the turian next to him – mustn't have been important, he can't remember what it was about. Get another drink. Own the room some more. Notice Shep. Notice Cortez. Hmm.

Shrugging to himself, he finishes his drink and nods at the bartender for a refill, leaning his elbow comfortably against the counter. As he watches his fellow crewmates chat easily and share a toast, he takes note that Steve looks somehow even more relaxed, and not for the first time, James thinks that Shepard did it again. The man should be nominated for sainthood – seriously. That, or make a business out of this helping people shindig – like an extranet column, to give advice to the desperate, or needy, or desperately needy – or his own radio broadcast, perhaps! He shakes his head and grins at his own rampant imagination, but honestly though, at some point the galaxy will stop needing to be saved, right? Shepard will then be forced to take a break, and counseling's a job like any other! If nothing else, it would probably pay well…

He nods in all seriousness for a second before he bursts out laughing and takes a gulp from his drink to calm himself. He sees the Commander stepping down from the upper bar, nodding at him before stopping by EDI and Joker on their date – and his mind supplies yet another post-end-of-the-galaxy job for John Shepard: matchmaker! This time he snorts while he's in the middle of drinking and it earns him a nasty look from the salarian next to him but he just shrugs and grabs a napkin from the dispenser to wipe his chin.

Still, he figures that now that his CO did his 'helping people' stint with Esteban, he can join his friend for a few rounds, so he lightly jogs up the couple of stairs. He slows down as he sees Steve in conversation with another Alliance soldier at the bar – and while he knows it could be an old buddy it's obvious he'd be interrupting something. Steve is smiling. Not a smile that he's smiled up till now – not that he can recall, at least – but it's a happy – if slightly cautious – smile. He knows that smile, even if he's not quite sure where he knows it from. It's the smile of someone who's glad to be wanted, but still unsure about it.

He tells himself he's just being a good friend and an awesome wingman by not interrupting his friend when he's clearly being chatted up, but really, for once, that just might've been him taking a step backwards.

* * *

><p>As unexpected as it may seem, when Cortez casually drops two small glasses and an unimpressive bottle on his weapon stand, something tells him it's been long coming. So Vega only raises an eyebrow at the out-of-place apparatus among weapon scopes and barrels but quickly dismisses it as unimportant when he cranes his neck to read the label. "Tequila, eh?" he notes with an appreciating nod. "First the jerky, now this – careful Esteban, if I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to get me to <em>like<em> you!" he teases as he unceremoniously pushes the various weapon parts aside.

Steve shrugs noncommittally as he pours them both a glass. "Well I _did_ learn pretty fast that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," he admits with a very serious nod as he holds up his glass, the glint in his eyes betraying the apparent serious look.

"I'm sure you did!" James replied with a chuckle as he hits their glasses, a few drops leaking onto his fingers. "_Salud_!" It's a good, familiar burn down his throat, and he just may have vocalized his agreement heartily, if the way the other's eyebrow raises up is any indication. "Damn Esteban, you sure don't do things half-way - this is the good stuff!"

"We aim to please," the other declares as he holds up his empty glass, smiling easily.

James refills their glasses – because really, an empty glass with such a good bottle, it's a _shame_! – and it occurs to him that barely a couple of weeks ago, Steve wouldn't have done this. Wouldn't have actually set up this drinking time with him, or simply _laughed _so easily. "Gotta hand it to Loco," he starts as he hits their glasses before downing his shot, "The time he spent talking to his shuttle pilot was worth it since it got him bright and iffy enough to have some fun!" he says with an easy grin. "You look good, Esteban – less mopey!"

Cortez chuckles and shakes his head at his antics, but there's also a smile in there. "Now now Mr. Vega, you need to give yourself some credit, too! Shepard wasn't the one to brighten up my dull days in the cargo hold with bad alien jokes, nor getting me drunk on mescal!"

"_Claro_, but I know some modesty!" James replies easily. "And you _love_ those jokes, don't think for a second I bought your cover-up of some tech mixing up the circuits in the firing system algorithm so you could turn away!" he slightly accuses as he pokes his chest.

"You clearly need more alcohol if you can still use the word 'algorithm' in a sentence," Steve comments as he refills their glasses.

"Hey, I resent that!" the bulky man says with a raised eyebrow – the shit-eating grin is totally ruining the effect though, they both know it. "You callin'me 'muscle-head'?"

"In the best possible sense," the pilot replies, holding out his drink to offer peace. "To brainy muscle-heads!"

"And cocky pilots!" Vega mutters as he watches him down the clear liquid. Giving a fond huff, he rolls his eyes as he pulls his stool closer to the table. "Alright Esteban, lemme show you how it's really done! Grab a seat!"

Cortez humors him but still raises an eyebrow. "Is this the part where I worry for everyone's safety, or the one where I home in on the nearest fire extinguisher?" he jokes with a laid-back smile.

"Sticks and stones, Esteban, sticks and stones..." James replies haughtily as he pulls out a deck of cards. The other holds up his hands in good-game surrender, and it's _on_.

He's not-so-secretly pleased that Steve is 100% relaxed this time – thanks to _him_ – and he notes that the smile he gets in return is a good one. One that others don't get – _ha! _– but James does: it's the smile of someone who wants something but isn't in a hurry to get it – possibly because they know they'll get it anyhow – it's a winner's smile. He should know – he's smiled it his whole life! (And inwardly he wonders when he's become such an expert on smile-deciphering but brushes it off as unimportant right now because his ass is so getting whooped at the moment it's not funny.)

Still, without question this is a massive step forward.

* * *

><p>Against all odds, being Shepard's shuttle pilot does not necessarily guarantee you a safer environment than being his squad mate. Okay, granted, there may be less actual bullets involved, but those fired his way are <em>much<em> bigger, and have the tendency to explode on impact. Steve doesn't complain, though, not much. In a sense and to a certain point, he doesn't really mind seeing some action while he waits for the ground team to signal him back for pick-up. Keeps him from worrying.

Which he is doing, right now – worrying, not dodging giant bullets. Normally he'd at least have radio contact with Shepard, but Liara had warned them upon landing that this Asari temple was built in ways to ensure that no communications would filter to or from the outside world – and if he understood correctly what he half-listened of her explanation on Ardat-Yakshi, then he's all for it, in theory. But in practice, he doesn't like the static.

"_Joker to transport shuttle, do you copy?"_

"This is Cortez, I copy _Normandy_," he replies as his eyes go over the radars and scanners in case Joker means to warn him of an imminent attack.

"_Hey Cortez! No news yet?"_

"None, radio is blank."

A sigh echoes in the speakers before the man chuckles conspiringly. _"Well, they haven't been gone for long, and I guess it would take some time to properly blow up the place!"_

Steve has to grin at that. "I don't know, they've got Vega, and he's not one to drag his heels – particularly when we're talking about blowing up stuff!"

"_You make a very fine and accurate point!"_ Joker concedes, grin audible. _"Okay then, we'll just stay hidden and wait for you to contact us back. Don't get killed out there! Normandy out."_

Cortez just shakes his head and goes back to monitoring the temple's surrounding when without notice there's a bright explosion and he sees part of a building collapse – and it's just a bit disconcerting because from the shuttle, he doesn't _hear_ anything, though his mind seems to be able to provide the sound to go with the visual without a problem. But cold dread grips at his stomach. "Commander Shepard, this is Cortez, come in." Pause. Wait. No reply. "Shepard, come in!" He's briefly reminded of another time when he was in his shuttle, desperately waiting for an answer from the other end and only getting static. "James! Dr T'Soni, anyone! This is Cortez, come in! James!" he repeats, refusing to give up yet. He's just about to contact the _Normandy_ to require ground back-up when the radio screeches to life.

"_Cortez, Shepard here. We're coming out in the landing pad, meet us there!"_

The enormous breath of relief he lets out is not enough to completely calm him, but it's a start. At least his heart started beating again. "Roger that, Commander. Cortez out."

It's a good twenty minutes later when James boards the shuttle. Out of the corner of his eyes, the pilot sees Shepard in deep conversation with two Asari, with Liara silently watching. Vega has a smug look on his face as he sits down, and Steve has to raise an eyebrow at that. "What's gotten into you?" he asks despite his better judgment.

The Soldier grins that infuriatingly childish 'I-know-something-that-you-don't' grin and shrugs. "You called me James," he remarks.

"That _is_ your name," Cortez replies, unimpressed and wondering why on Earth (or in Space, more accurately) this is worth noting – surely it's not the first time he's called the other by his given name, is it?

Vega – _James _– makes that face that clearly means 'your loss' as he leans back in his seat. "Just for the record, I consider that a step forward, Esteban."

The pilot doesn't have time to ask him if he's hit his head because Shepard and Liara step back in and he flies the bird back to the _Normandy_. In the backseat he sees Vega counting something on his fingers and decides he doesn't want to ask – more accurately, he decides, he doesn't want to _know_.

* * *

><p>It's a rare day when they have some free time on the Citadel. Not that they're ever able to forget about their home world being purged by the Reapers, but it's been clear from the start that they need alliances and fleets, and that means getting elbow-deep into politics and, in James' own words, 'bending over from time to time' – not that he ever dared say that with Shepard around, <em>he<em>'s not the loco one around the place. So, them, Shepard's trusty crew mates ('cause despite whispers he's heard, James Vega is _no one_'s sidekick, _entiendes_?), can only take some fun time when the Spectre's doing exactly what his position requires of him – shaking hands, making promises (whether he intends to keep them or not) and fixing problems – which, as was already established, he's freaking good at.

James absently taps his fingers in rhythm with the music as he waits for his drink, offering a wink at a couple of giggling asari not far by the tables. Next to him, Steve chuckles as he observes Joker and EDI. "What now?" he asks with mild interest as he picks a few nuts from a green bowl – the red one is for Quarians and Turians, as he'd had the bad luck of finding out the hard way once upon a leave – and really, he has to wonder if the red was chosen specifically for humans because it's more inspiring and less costly than a big 'dextro nuts' sign or just for the heck of it.

Cortez turns to him, trying to keep on a very serious face – but not quite managing. "I think she's actually mad that he introduced her as his 'VI disability assistant' again."

Vega grins as he nods his thanks to the bartender, sending a quick look to the table where the mild couple-scuffle is taking place. "Mark my words Esteban, the next question will be, 'Jeff, do you really love me? Sensors indicate your eyes keep straying towards the scantily clad dancers involved in choreographed aerobics on the stage above'," he foretells in his best EDI impression, being rewarded with a deep laugh.

"How do you come up with that stuff?" the pilot asks rhetorically as he sips a bit of his drink. "At least, he'll never have to worry about the number one dreaded question for many a boyfriend all over the galaxy."

"_Aren't you happy Mom's coming over to spend the week-end with us_?" James guesses, because really, pit him up against Reapers, Husks, Cerberus shock troopers, Goddamned supposed-to-be-extinct _Rachni_, and _fine_! But a week-end with the in-laws? Be merciful and bury him already!

"Hey I actually liked my mother-in-law!" Steve declares as he pretends to be hurt. He then shakes his head, leaning his head closer to give the real answer. "_Does this dress make me look fat_?"

The soldier gives a hearty laugh at this, nearly choking on his drink as he has to concede this point. "Damn for someone who's not into women, you know them well!"

"Women like to confide in men," he replies with an easy shrug. "They feel we can both relate to the complaining and give 'sound advice for a better understanding'," he air-quotes.

James nods as it makes sense. "Yeah, 'cept I can't see you in a million years ever asking if this dress makes you look fat!" he says with a shake of his head.

Steve chuckles. "Ah, that may actually be because _I don't wear dresses_," he stage-whispers conspicuously, nodding as though he's just told him something very important and secret. "Don't tell anyone!"

Vega actually laughs harder at this, and he needs to put his drink down because just one look at his friend and the laughter's back all over again. It's funny how laughter can be infectious and roundabout like that. Makes no sense when you think about it – something's funny, you laugh, okay, but how come you keep laughing the second, third, and so on times? Why do you start laughing again when someone else does? He once did the mistake of wondering about it around a salarian scientist, and though he tuned out pretty quickly – because the guy was actually making him _laugh_, of all things – he remembers it had much to do with brains and chemical signals and other boring stuff like that. Still strange. "Lieutenant Steven Cortez, Sir, you are a whole different kind of _loco_!" he declares instead, shaking off his current trail of thoughts.

Steve's about to answer when a human waitress walks up to them and offers him a drink. "From the gentleman by the dance floor," she tells him with a smile, her eyes huge and eyelashes nearly batting as she seems to be hoping real hard he won't turn it down.

Both men gaze over her shoulder to see the Alliance soldier Steve had shared drinks with the last time they were on leave. Wordlessly, the pilot accepts the drink, flashing the – now relieved – waitress a smile.

James glares at the guy like he's a Cerberus Engineer – he hates those sneaky bastards with their freaking stupid turrets and whatnot – but when he turns back to his friend he tones it down. "Hey, if you…y'know…wanna go, don't let me keep you," he mutters with a jerk of his head towards the guy. Acting tough – no big deal. He's a friend through and through.

Steve gives out a short chuckle as he raises a hand to the back of his neck. "Don't worry about it. He's nice, but I'm not really interested," he replies with a shrug as he shifts his position so he's facing James and the bar a bit more than the dance floor – all the while without appearing to be obviously doing so. He follows his friend's pointed look at the drink and sighs at the unvoiced question.

_Why'd you take the drink, then?_

"I had a friend who worked as a waitress for some time, to pay for her studies. She said the one thing more embarrassing than a client asking you to give someone else a drink is to have that person turn it down, making you go back with the bad news," he says as he seems to be remembering his friend. "A guy nearly made her cry over something like that once; I guess that story just stuck with me…I can't say 'no'," he offers with a small shrug.

James has to smile then because that is just too much like his friend. "Always the hero to the damsels in distress, eh Esteban?"

Steve grins but shrugs lightly. "So I'm a good guy, sue me!" His eyes dart around the room steadily and he nods to himself. "I do keep my eyes peeled out for the heroes though. Damsels are so overrated," he half-jokes.

James shakes his head at this and opens his mouth to retort something when he catches Randy (the random Alliance guy who offered Cortez a drink, he decides) still looking their way not entirely hopelessly yet. For a second he's tempted to ask him, _"What the hell, man?"_ because isn't it obvious they're having a conversation? But then he thinks that the guy most probably _did_ notice – because again, how could someone (interested in men, to boot) _not_ notice James Vega? Yet he's still trying. And he doesn't need to ask why.

It's because Steve is worth it.

Heck, Randy barely had a few drinks with him, probably exchanged some war stories, maybe got lucky and had a good-night..._something _(part of him really dislikes the idea, unlikely as it may be, and it nearly threatens to make him violent, but he doesn't dwell on that). But the man looks smitten. And he's right to be.

"Randy's still staring at you," he remarks nonchalantly instead.

Steve frowns in confusion for all of a second before he understands who he's talking about and he shakes his head at him. "Right," he says with a sigh as he makes to push himself from the counter, to let 'Randy' know he's not interested. "Can't be a hero to everyone I guess."

"_You_ can," the soldier replies as he puts down his drink and cracks his neck. Steve puts a hand on his shoulder to hold him place, the gesture seeming completely natural as though he's done it countless times – allegedly, rumor has it he _may_ have stopped potential bar brawls in the past, more than once.

"You're _not_ going over to scare him away," he says simply, his eyes betraying his amusement. "I mean it, Vega," he cuts him off when he sees him open his mouth – but he's smiling widely by now, so his authority is somewhat reduced.

Never one to let opportunities pass, James puts his hand on top of the one over his shoulder and leans closer to him. "Who said anything about _scaring_?" he mutters with a smug grin. He then very deliberately looks over his friend's shoulder at Randy and raises an eyebrow cockily. Needless to say he's infinitely satisfied when poor Randy seems to get the message and holds up his hands in good game. "See? No scaring! You owe me, by the way," he adds matter-of-factly as he gives his hand a pat before dropping his own down.

Steve mock-punches his shoulder as he shakes his head. "Right, like you didn't just permanently kill my chances of ever hooking up with anyone here in the future!" he half-jokes as he calls over the bartender for refills.

"Oh _man_, I am _so_ sorry Esteban!" James declares as he slaps his palm to his forehead. "_Amigo_, that did _not_ cross my mind at_ any _time! Want me to go get Randy back?" he asks, frowning earnestly. "'Cause I could totally go – and get Randy back!" He's probably not that convincing, given that he's chuckling uncontrollably, but he doesn't care – this is for the principle.

"You're a crappy actor Mr. Vega. Possibly the crappiest I've ever seen," the pilot informs him with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, but you still love me, right?" James asks back with that shit-eating grin as he leans back on the counter.

There's a moment there, when their eyes meet – more like a beat, really – and there's silence, even though their smiles don't falter. It's practically gone before it's even there and they raise glasses in a silent toast.

But suddenly James isn't too sure whether it's a step forward or backwards.

* * *

><p>Surprisingly, it takes Traynor to realize he's the one who's taken yet another step back. She doesn't even mean to – he's by engineering to rope Grid (aka Donnelly) into a game later on when he hears her talk with Allers. And though he's not privy to eavesdropping, he can't help but stop and do just that when he hears Diana's question.<p>

"So, if you ever were to fall for a man, who do you think it could be?" Ugh. Girly talk.

"Oh, I don't know…you ask the weirdest questions," he hears the yeoman reply in her usual charming voice – so he digs accents, sue him.

"Believe me, you haven't really seen weird until you read a hanar's fan-mail!"

"I'll take your word on that."

"So?"

"But that is so theoretical!" There's a pause and some more girly banter before she sighs. "Commander Shepard, I would say…if that doesn't sound too obvious and stalkerish!"

Diana sighs. "I'm right there with you…it's hard enough to conceive not being attracted to that man…such a hero and all…plus the looks don't hurt!"

He tunes out the conversation then because the words hit him.

_Hard enough to conceive not being attracted to the man…_

_Such a hero…_

So if even Traynor, who he'd readily admit he was able to have some nice women-centered talks with, admits to this, then what about someone who'd be attracted to men anyway?

What about Steve?

Shepard already demonstrated he had him wrapped around his finger when he got him to take a time-out. And last time at the club, Steve turned Randy down even though the time before he hadn't minded him. Was that it then? Did he have his eyes set on their resident hero?

This train of thoughts shortly brings on a sudden urge to punch the Commander, and James has to pause and consider – let's face it, he can't go around punching his CO – because he'd felt the same way about Randy.

He's jealous.

Right in the middle of engineering, he lets out a loud string of multi-lingual curses.

Because he just realized that perhaps he's the one who's taken too many steps forward without planning to.

And this realization does absolutely not feel like a step forward. It's not a step backwards, either. Not even a _few _steps backwards. It's a complete freaking _walk_ all the way back.

In the back of his mind, he hears Javik's deep rumbling voice.

"_The joke is on _you_, human_."

No like.

* * *

><p>Steve notices right away that there's something different. But he doesn't question him, doesn't force him to lie – he's <em>Steve<em>, anyway, he'd see through the lies in a heartbeat. Merely respects his silence, because he's a good friend, and he figures James will talk if and when he wants to. But it's a deafening silence. So James walks around. He banters with Garrus – and unquestionably: Garrus, like. He tries once more to talk with Javik – and unarguably: Javik, freaky. He teaches the sad things of life to Kaidan as he _crushes_ him at poker – and definitely: Kaidan, like. And for a few moments he forgets. But then it always comes back.

Steve, _like_. Damn.

Of course the more time passes, the more he develops a case of crazy and spins unlikely scenario in his head – the salarians captured them back on Sur'Kesh and he's really just in a lab partaking in some crazy fubar experience, or the genophage cure altered his hormones, or Randy cursed him, or he dug from the wrong bowl in Purgatory – and those are only the ones he's willing to laugh about.

And then he catches himself making a comment, as usual, and Steve replies, as usual, and it's fun and light and comfortable, as usual.

Then his mind reminds him, as usual—Steve, _like_. Double damn.

So to shut up his mind, he decides to do what he does best: a head-on charge.

"Would you go for Shepard?" he asks Steve with his arms crossed over his chest as he leans next to the railing of his station.

It's out of the blue and it feels like a bomb in the shuttle bay. Chip and Dale (aka the two mechanics who always hang around) wisely decide that it's high time they take a long break and catch up with their buddies over in engineering.

Steve's eyes narrow the slightest bit as he tries to gauge how serious his question really is. "Why the interest?" he asks neutrally as he returns to his screens.

"Answer the question," James replies instead. "I asked first," he then adds, the trace of a grin and their usual banter back in his voice as he gives a light shrug.

The pilot smiles slightly at that, and looks back up. "Fair enough," he concedes. "Two can play this game."

Vega nods back, a silent agreement to the rules. "So would you?"

Steve seems to consider the question and its answer carefully. "Theoretically? Yes," he replies finally. "If he came up to me right now and offered? No."

The soldier frowns, because even though that's the answer he was hoping for, it's not the one he was expecting, and he's not quite sure where to go from here.

"Why the interest?" Cortez repeats.

"Well he's the man!" James replies with a shrug. "Just the kind of _hero_ you keep an eye out for," he adds.

"He's not the only one," the other remarks.

"He's the one that really got through to you," he says back, perhaps a bit more aggressively than he's planned to.

Steve shakes his head. "Yeah, Shepard helped, but you made me _laugh_! Within a couple of hours here you had me making fun of you like old times!"

The words are out before he thinks them. "So would you go for _me_?" he asks as he steps closer to the console.

Steve gets that thoughtful look he takes on when he's examining a situation like it's a booby-trapped conception – and this is arguably as loaded a discussion as they've ever had. After an eternity, he replies, "Theoretically? Yes."

No sooner has he said this that James is _close_. "And If I'm coming up to you right now and offering?" he asks in a low voice.

The elevator doors slide open and Shepard stops in his steps. "Am I interrupting something?" he can't help but ask. When both men reply, "Yes," he nods – does a poor job of hiding a face splitting grin – and asks EDI to get him back to the CIC. And he doesn't even mind that he now owes Joker some money.

James doesn't wait for the doors to be completely shut before he takes that final step forward and kisses Steve. "You're forbidden from being alone with him," he mutters against his lips.

Steve chuckles as he tugs on his dog tags to annoy him. "Hey, don't worry, I _am_ quite in admiration of Shepard, but nowhere near the same way I feel about you."

That only barely placates James. "You're still forbidden from being alone with him," he maintains.

"I don't mind a jealous man," Steve assures him as he's pushed back against the flashing console. James kisses exactly like he's expected him to: with passion that makes you feel _wanted_, wholly. "I suppose I should buy Randy a drink," he lets out with a grin after a short moment.

"Points off for mentioning another guy when I've got you pressed against your work station, Esteban," James jokes, though he gets exactly what he means.

"Well what can I say, Mr. Vega? He made me realize no one could hold a candle to the muscle-heads!" he insists.

James raises an eyebrow and kisses him to shut him up. "I s'pose that means I'm treating Traynor," he muses when they part.

The other seems initially puzzled but then smiles. "Long story?"

James nods. "Weird as shit, too."

"It's okay," Steve assures him, a hand moving to the back of his neck. "I like how it ends," he adds huskily.

"Who said anything about endings?" Vega asks cockily.

"No one, Mr. Vega. No one," is the amused reply.

And James has to laugh because…Yep. Steve, _like_.

(On a side note, making Shepard pause, consider, and ask EDI for green light before he enters the shuttle bay from this point on—_like_.)

It's more of a challenge than he initially anticipated, this whole 'digging your buddy and having him dig you back' thing. It can't be all handled in a few talks or a few days, he's aware of that – it's a full process in its own, one that requires several steps.

Luckily, he's not so bad at keeping count and despite appearances he's one patient bastard – _driven_ even, Steve says, and this time he's aware and willing to help every step along the way.

It somehow makes all the difference.

So this whole deal?

Well, if you ask James…

_Like_.

END.


End file.
